Rondo
by Cedar
Summary: For years I have loved you and cursed your existence... A deadly game controls generations of Malfoys and Potters.
1. Tangled

Disclaimer:  All the characters and places in this work belong to J.K.Rowling and the large corporations with which she is associated.  I am not J.K. Rowling.  Too bad, really.

As I have some background in music, this story experiments with rondo form:  A-B-A-C-A-D etc.

*~*~*

Spring was cruelest, trees bursting mercilessly into emerald blooms, flowers daring to show their flaming colors after months underground.  He had always preferred winter, the sharp gray skies reflecting the color of his eyes, the pale earth a relentless reminder of his heritage. As nature unfolded new life Malfoy Manor grew darker, ivy unkempt twisting over the walls, rains dampening the air in the stone fortress. Ten years had passed since that final day of their seventh year at Hogwarts, and all it took was one movement in the shadows or a flicker of a candle to bring him back to that dungeon, to the rage and loss.  Harry Potter, dead, checkmated in the dangerous multigenerational game of human chess. Lucius Malfoy, the grand master, hiding his war tactics until the lethal end.

"No."

"No?"  The seventh-year's response was genuinely shocked, and for the first time gray eyes showed a flicker of uncertainty.

"It's over, Lucius."

Silence, then fury.  Lucius flung James against the wall of the empty classroom so fast James saw stars as his head met the brick.  Shaking the world back into focus, James stared up at Lucius, Lucius's slender face drawn into a quiet sneer that looked more like he was hiding some great knowledge, rather than angry.  

"You don't seem to understand.  This is not something that begins and ends and we leave it unmentioned for the rest of our lives.  Your life is tangled in mine, like it or not, as our families have been for years."  Cold smile.  "There is no 'No' here, James.  The best you can hope for is to play the game and come out alive."

"To hell with the game, I quit.  There is no reason for this game, as you call it, to go on!" and he reached for Lucius's arms to free himself from the wall.  As he resisted, Lucius grew stronger.  Angered by James's struggle, Lucius pinned him by the throat, and James's sapphire-blue eyes widened in fear as he choked.

"Shut up, Potter," Lucius spat.  "Get it through your thick Gryffindor skull that we don't have a say in this.  We belonged to each other before birth, raised to be each other's lover and enemy.  I will have it no other way."

Lucius loosened his grip and James gasped for air.  "In case you've forgotten, Lucius, I do have a mind of my own.  I can make choices.  And I have."

"That filthy red-haired Mudblood. Why don't you go and fuck Arthur Weasley while you're at it, they're all from the same ugly breed."

"Lily has twice the magical ability you could ever hope to have."

With a fist to his jaw, James lost his balance and crashed to the floor.  Turning on his back and moaning in pain, he grunted as Lucius placed a foot in the middle of his chest.  

"You can marry her for all I care.  In fact, I expect you to. I expect our sons to be raised as we were, to bring the game to a new level.  But I will not be left out of your life."  Kneeling and pushing James into the floor by his slim shoulders, he lowered his face into the dark hair and his soft words caressed James's ear.

"I cannot live without you.  There has never been a day in my life that you did not overpower what should have been my better judgment.  For years I have loved you and cursed your existence.  You are more powerful than I ever bargained for, a worthy opponent and brilliant partner.  We go beyond lust, beyond love, beyond family."

"And where I go now--it's beyond you."

"Damn you, James!" The pale eyes drew fire as Lucius straightened his back, picked up James's shoulders, and slammed him into the floor.  James cried out as his skull struck stone and he wavered at the edge of consciousness. "You will _not_ leave me, I will kill you first!"  As James slipped into the blackness, Lucius kissed him furiously, a reminder that there was no escape, no turning back from what controlled their lives.

James woke up alone, cold and sore, blood beading on his lower lip where Lucius had bit him before storming back to Slytherin.

  
  



	2. Astonished

Spring was cruelest, trees bursting mercilessly into emerald blooms, flowers daring to show their flaming colors after months underground. He had always preferred winter, the sharp gray skies reflecting the color of his eyes, the pale earth a relentless reminder of his heritage. As nature unfolded new life Malfoy Manor grew darker, ivy unkempt twisting over the walls, rains dampening the air in the stone fortress. Ten years had passed since that final day of their seventh year at Hogwarts, and all it took was one movement in the shadows or a flicker of a candle to bring him back to that dungeon, to the rage and loss. Harry Potter, dead, checkmated in the dangerous multigenerational game of human chess. Lucius Malfoy, the grand master, hiding his war tactics until the lethal end.  
  
  
  
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."  
  
"That's Pawn to King-Four," I thought, astonished. "He's beaten me to the opening move." Of course, I couldn't say it, not with Crabbe and Goyle and the Weasel there. Unable to say anything else as I felt my face grow hot, I turned and left the compartment.  
  
Six years, and I still haven't been able to tell him that he's been playing our game unwittingly-and winning. Father grows more insistent every year that I somehow get myself closer to Potter, how the hell I was supposed to do that with the whole school watching I didn't know. I spent a day in the dungeon for that retort, and I was bruised for the better part of a week afterward. He'd had his way with James for years and no one knew, and wouldn't hear my pleas that James was different, he hadn't lost his parents and defeated the Dark Lord before he could walk. Potter was everyone's favorite, guarded as though he were some kind of treasure. Disgusting. Having that Mudblood Granger and Weasley around doesn't help matters, those two are nosy beyond the telling of it. Anything I try, they'll know about instantly. No, somehow I have to get Potter alone and make my move, trap him so he has no choice but to move himself, keeping his other pieces right where they are.  
  
It had to be in Potions, hidden among the quiet rush of mixing and boiling. Potter burst into class late, and I had to turn my head away as I felt my stomach knot in the presence of his flushed pink cheeks and tousled hair. Perfect. Snape would punish him by partnering him with me.  
  
"Tonight, Potter," in my softest voice, not letting him doubt for a second I was serious in my intentions.  
  
"What?" He looked at me as though I had suddenly begun to speak Martian. My focus was on my ginger roots and slicing knife.  
  
"The Astronomy Tower. One in the morning."  
  
"What's in the Astronomy Tower?" God, did he have to speak so loudly?  
  
"Leave your wand in your dorm."  
  
I could feel those green eyes boring a hole in my skull, but I had to stay in control, leave him wondering. He would be there. Potter never passed on the promise of a challenge.  
  
Check. 


	3. Countered

Spring was cruelest, trees bursting mercilessly into emerald blooms, flowers daring to show their flaming colors after months underground. He had always preferred winter, the sharp gray skies reflecting the color of his eyes, the pale earth a relentless reminder of his heritage. As nature unfolded new life Malfoy Manor grew darker, ivy unkempt twisting over the walls, rains dampening the air in the stone fortress. Ten years had passed since that final day of their seventh year at Hogwarts, and all it took was one movement in the shadows or a flicker of a candle to bring him back to that dungeon, to the rage and loss. Harry Potter, dead, checkmated in the dangerous multigenerational game of human chess. Lucius Malfoy, the grand master, hiding his war tactics until the lethal end.  
  
  
  
"Why am I here?"  
  
"Sit down, Potter." Malfoy gestured to the seat under the wide window of the Astronomy Tower. Warily, I sat, keeping him in my gaze.  
  
"Where's your wand?"  
  
"In Gryffindor Tower."  
  
"That was the correct answer." He smiled without showing teeth, his eyes satisfied.  
  
"And what do I win?"  
  
For some reason he started to laugh. "Shut up, Malfoy, you want Filch to come up here?"  
  
"Sorry, Potter. That question. You could never imagine what you're going to win. Or lose."  
  
"Right now YOU are not winning my patience. I'll ask you again: why am I here? Without my wand."  
  
"Relax, I'm not going to hex you. Well, I might if you can't learn to shut that pretty mouth of yours for five minutes."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Harry Potter." Tasting my name on his tongue, pacing the room, turning to stare down at me. "How much do you know about your father?"  
  
"Not very much." I had been so surprised by the question I let my guard completely down. Thinking better of my admission, I countered "He was a better man than yours. He treated people like human beings instead of objects."  
  
Malfoy spun on his heel and the flat of his hand connected solidly with my cheek. I heard the sound of the impact before feeling the pain, and a second later I raised my hand to feel the stinging skin where he had struck me.  
  
"That was not one of your better responses. Think before you speak. Understood?" What kind of statement was that? I nodded. "You don't know the first thing about your father. You and I, we've carried a legacy to Hogwarts, a game passed down by our fathers."  
  
"A game?"  
  
"Play chess, Potter?"  
  
"Sometimes, with Ron."  
  
"Ever win?"  
  
"Not much."  
  
"Why does that not surprise me?"  
  
"Why do you care?"  
  
"It's the game we're playing."  
  
"What?"  
  
Malfoy was silent for a moment, looking out the window at the silver constellations. The moonlight made his hair appear even lighter than it normally was. Breathing deeply, he turned once more to face me.  
  
"Our fathers. They were a lot closer than anyone knew. They'd known each other since the day they were born, and they were raised by their fathers to carry on this strange family game of chess. Only there aren't really pieces, just moves and countermoves in our lives that place Malfoy at an advantage over Potter, or vice versa."  
  
"And I'm supposed to play?"  
  
"You ARE playing. You're winning. You were the one who made the first move against me. Every accomplishment of yours has been something I've had to balance with one of my own."  
  
"How--how is that possible? How could I be winning a game I didn't even know I was playing? What if I don't want to play?"  
  
"You don't get a choice as to whether you play or not. As for your winning, think back to our first formal meeting."  
  
I thought. The robe shop. No--"The train."  
  
"When you refused me. That was unexpected. I was almost proud of you. I knew you would be someone I enjoyed playing with. I assumed you knew nothing of your lineage, yet you were so bold, acting like you knew this game backwards and forwards. Your being sorted into Gryffindor was something I had anticipated, but I hadn't figured on you becoming such good friends with Weasley. I had to figure out a way to bring you closer to me. Quidditch was a failure, and your friends are too inquisitive, too loud. Father laid into me this summer about telling you who you really are; he wants to make sure you're participating."  
  
"I don't give a rat's ass as to what your father thinks or wants."  
  
"It's not about what anyone wants!" Malfoy screamed, and I recoiled. "Honestly, I think hanging around Granger is actually making you stupider.  
  
"It's about what you were born to be. We were supposed to be raised as our fathers were, to continue this game of black versus white. We'd live as enemies and-" he trailed off.  
  
What was all this? I could see my father as Lucius Malfoy's adversary, anyone could figure that. But this game? What was it for? Why had he played? Looking up at my sworn enemy, knowledge flooded me. It was because he had felt drawn to Lucius in the same dangerous way I felt drawn to Draco, a forbidden pull deep in my bones.  
  
"And we'd be lovers when no one was watching," I finished.  
  
"You DO know."  
  
"It's not knowing so much as feeling," I admitted softly. I felt like I'd left my common sense with my wand in Gryffindor, but that didn't overshadow my feeling of relief that after six years I had gotten that thought out of my system.  
  
"When James tried to end it with my father, in their seventh year here, my father beat him unconscious in anger. He said he had no true life without the challenge of your father. No one but me knows how torn he is in his feelings for the Dark Lord. His master killed the man who shaped him. As it turned out, James couldn't live without my father either, even though he certainly tried. They both married, and they had us, but they continued the game until James died. Only their fathers knew, of course, because they had lived the same way."  
  
"What will you do to me if I try to leave you?"  
  
"Give me six months and you'll wonder why you ever asked that question."  
  
Malfoy stopped his pacing and sat next to me on the window seat. I was still reeling from his information, and as he came closer I was sure he could hear my heart beating. "So now you know, Harry," he whispered, "and it's time we formally declared this game."  
  
In a flash, he twisted my right arm behind my back and raised my left arm over my head by my wrist, knocking me onto my back. He didn't even need to say what he was thinking as our eyes locked. I knew instantly he'd seen all the glances I stole in Potions, the way I admired his cold confidence. When his lips met mine I lost all connection to the world, drowning in his warm, salty kiss. I reciprocated his passion hungrily, pressing the length of my body into his. Draco kept me his prisoner as his tongue explored my mouth, my cheek, my neck. He sucked the base of my neck lightly and I heard myself moan, delighting in what I had wanted for years.  
  
As quickly as he had pinned me down, he stood, looking down at me lying on the window seat, my breathing shallow.  
  
"Your move."  
  
He was gone before I could sit up. As I stood, I looked around the Astronomy Tower, fixing in my mind the moonlight on the stone floor, the shadows on the walls. Draco Malfoy was not to be trusted, kiss or none.  
  
"Castle, King's side," I spoke aloud. 


	4. Polarized

Spring was cruelest, trees bursting mercilessly into emerald blooms, flowers daring to show their flaming colors after months underground. He had always preferred winter, the sharp gray skies reflecting the color of his eyes, the pale earth a relentless reminder of his heritage. As nature unfolded new life Malfoy Manor grew darker, ivy unkempt twisting over the walls, rains dampening the air in the stone fortress. Ten years had passed since that final day of their seventh year at Hogwarts, and all it took was one movement in the shadows or a flicker of a candle to bring him back to that dungeon, to the rage and loss. Harry Potter, dead, checkmated in the dangerous multigenerational game of human chess. Lucius Malfoy, the grand master, hiding his war tactics until the lethal end.  
  
  
  
"Earth to Harry!"  
  
"Huh?" I looked up from my book to see Ron glaring at me across the table in the otherwise deserted Gryffindor common room. "What?"  
  
"I've only been talking to you for the past five minutes."  
  
"Oh, sorry. I was, ah, a little distracted." Thinking about where I was four hours earlier, naked on a desk in an unused classroom three floors above.  
  
"Well, don't you have a talent for stating the obvious."  
  
Stung, I lowered my head, mumbling an apology.  
  
"Harry, what the hell is going on?"  
  
Nothing, Ron. Except if you figure that I'm part of some twisted game, where Draco and I curse each other in the corridors by day and search those same halls by night for a place to make love. Oh, and did I mention my soul's been bound to Draco's since the day I was born, and my father and Lucius Malfoy were the ones that bound it?  
  
"Everything's fine."  
  
"Bullshit. You look like you haven't slept in months, you're behind in Transfiguration, and Neville's been more together in Potions than you. You don't eat, you never want to spend time with me and Hermione-"  
  
"Well maybe if you'd stop being such an annoying ass I'd want to spend more time with you!"  
  
Ron looked as though I'd just punched him. When he regained composure, his voice was warm and quiet. "Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry, I'm just really worried. Something strange is going on with you."  
  
"I'm fine. Really. Just nervous about finals and all."  
  
He obviously believed me about as far as he could throw Crabbe or Goyle, but he sat back and closed his book. "I need a break. Want to play chess?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Chess. You want to play a game?"  
  
I raised my head and suddenly felt my stomach turn. I pushed past Ron and ran at top speed for the bathroom. A few minutes later, Ron entered, moving to kneel beside me on the cool floor.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"Yes, I'm fine," I replied, wiping sweat off my forehead with my sleeve. "Just something I ate. I'm not feeling well, think I'll go to bed." I stood, heading for the dormitory.  
  
Furtively, I fished my Invisibility Cloak out of my trunk, pulled the curtains around my bed shut, and slipped the cloak over my head. I crept past Ron in the common room, where people were starting to trickle in after the library's closing. As Hermione climbed through the portrait hole I scrambled out, rushing through Hogwarts toward the Slytherin dungeon.  
  
Since that night in the Astronomy Tower I was polarized, hatred and lust fighting over my heart. Draco had been right, our lives could never be separate now that I was initiated into the game. Though I had made the first move, he controlled the relationship through sheer knowledge and experience. Watching him swagger through the halls tore me in two. I was powerless at the same time I dominated him, set on fire and reduced to life's ashes when he took me in his mouth, when his hands roamed my body. He'd had years to get used to the concept of the game; I was struggling to fathom the depth to which my existence had been altered.  
  
He came down the empty hallway alone; his minions had probably chosen to spend time in a belching contest instead of studying. Looking both ways down the hall, I flung myself at him and he fell against the wall, a bottle of ink from his bag smashing into the floor.  
  
A glance to either side, and a smirk. "Harry. King Subtlety as always."  
  
I threw back my cloak and pulled him into my lips by his shirt collar, savoring his taste, greedily forcing my tongue past his teeth.  
  
Draco pulled away and took my face in his hand. The tips of his index finger and thumb dug hard just under my cheekbones. "Not here."  
  
His resistance electrified me. Tonight, he was going to play according to my moves. "Here. And you'll like it."  
  
Interception, protecting the king. He would have to figure a different way around me. King-Knight to King's-Bishop Three. Pinned, but in control for the time being. 


	5. Shadowed

Spring was cruelest, trees bursting mercilessly into emerald blooms, flowers daring to show their flaming colors after months underground. He had always preferred winter, the sharp gray skies reflecting the color of his eyes, the pale earth a relentless reminder of his heritage. As nature unfolded new life Malfoy Manor grew darker, ivy unkempt twisting over the walls, rains dampening the air in the stone fortress. Ten years had passed since that final day of their seventh year at Hogwarts, and all it took was one movement in the shadows or a flicker of a candle to bring him back to that dungeon, to the rage and loss. Harry Potter, dead, checkmated in the dangerous multigenerational game of human chess. Lucius Malfoy, the grand master, hiding his war tactics until the lethal end.  
  
  
  
In doorways, in the library stacks, in the sunrise hours outside the castle we made love, a feast before the unknown battle. Every day, it grew harder for me to speak to him when we were alone, knowing that once school ended it would be weeks before I could see him again. His pride betrayed the knowing look in his eyes that we would be incomplete without our competition, but he persevered as ever to barb me in the halls and in front of my friends. This game, how would it continue? Where would we find each other? Years from now, would he agree to raise his son with mine? A reflection of us, one light and one dark, contending against each other for control of the center of the board and the other's life.  
  
Somehow I made it through final exams, though if Potions had been any longer I don't think I'd have been able to stand it. I was sure Snape suspected something, but he remained silent as we ground and brewed. When the final day of school came scorching hot with steam rising off the grounds, I dressed and headed to breakfast. He was there already, back turned to the doorway, talking to his usual crowd. I threw a glance at his table, but if he noticed my entrance no one knew. Eggs, bacon, all turned to dust in my mouth as I went through the motions of conversation. We would not be able to talk on the Hogwarts Express without our wands trained on each other, the most binding rule of all being that no one knew of our contest. I listened to the younger house members talk about their classes for next year, and the graduates who had found jobs competed for prestige.  
  
Much too late, I realized it had been the pumpkin juice. Sweet, cold venom coursing down my throat, forcing the appearance of someone who was as excited as everyone else about the end of the school year. In the middle of a sentence I felt as though I'd suddenly consumed three bottles of wine, lightheaded and fighting to control my speech. Stumbling as I rose from my seat, I excused myself from the Great Hall. Several pairs of eyes showed confusion and concern, and I ran from them toward the stairs. I didn't know if he saw me and I didn't care, I had to get someplace safe, away from onlookers.  
  
The dorm seemed miles away as I made my way past paintings who were fanning themselves against the heat. The world began to spin and I felt my knees fail me as I reached the entrance. Crawling on the floor, I gasped the password and collapsed on the floor of the common room, begging for someone to find me. My heart pounded in my ears as my chest began to cave, and I prayed to see those same people from whom I had run as phosphorescent spots blurred my vision. Nauseated, I slid into darkness, whispering a final plea for help.  
  
I awoke someplace cool and dim, an unfamiliar relief from the summer sun. As I moved my arm, it felt strangely heavy. Confused and still clouded from the poison, I turned my head toward my hand and was shocked to see myself in iron chains anchored low on the wall. Looking around, I could see I was in a dungeon of some sort, possibly a torture chamber. The stone walls were stained, and the only light was offered by a few fat candles burning in the four corners. A door on the far side of the room opened and a tall, thin man entered, flanked by two shorter, stockier figures in hooded cloaks. I stood to meet them, untangling myself from the links.  
  
They conferred quietly among themselves for a moment, then the tall man turned gracefully to face me. Candlelight shadowed his face but his eyes were the same translucent gray I had been looking into all year, an older, scarred version of Draco's.  
  
When Lucius Malfoy spoke, he called me James. 


	6. Forced

Spring was cruelest, trees bursting mercilessly into emerald blooms, flowers daring to show their flaming colors after months underground. He had always preferred winter, the sharp gray skies reflecting the color of his eyes, the pale earth a relentless reminder of his heritage. As nature unfolded new life Malfoy Manor grew darker, ivy unkempt twisting over the walls, rains dampening the air in the stone fortress. Ten years had passed since that final day of their seventh year at Hogwarts, and all it took was one movement in the shadows or a flicker of a candle to bring him back to that dungeon, to the rage and loss. Harry Potter, dead, checkmated in the dangerous multigenerational game of human chess. Lucius Malfoy, the grand master, hiding his war tactics until the lethal end.  
  
  
  
Damn this game. Toward the end of breakfast I felt my lungs constrict, the way they do when my father steps into the dungeon when he's locked me up. As I stood from the table, I pretended to catch the hem of my robe on my chair, and while freeing it I looked over my shoulder to the Gryffindor table. Granger and Weasley were there, but Harry's usual seat was empty. I must have stared too long, because the Mudblood started giving me a funny look. Turning away, I almost wished I could talk to them, anything to alleviate the sensation that something was wrong.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle had gone ahead without me, and I was thankful to be rid of those two imbeciles for the time being. Unable to get rid of my sinking feeling, I placed one hand on my wand inside my robe and began touring the hallways. Passing the Charms classroom, I felt a strong hand on my shoulder, pulling me backwards and slamming the door. I spun to confront my assailant, wand ready, and was surprised to see Macnair and Nott, two Death Eater friends of my father's.  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
My wand flew into the air and Macnair caught it. "What are you two doing here?"  
  
"Your father sent us to take you home."  
  
"I'll take the train, like I always do. Give me back my wand."  
  
"Your father sent us to take you home." Menacing.  
  
"Really, that's very kind of you gentlemen but-"  
  
"Stupefy!"  
  
When I regained consciousness, I groaned at the piercing pain in my head. I was on my back someplace cold and terrifying, yet familiar. Home. I'd spent too many hours in this room trying to dodge my father's whip not to recognize the dread that was filling my stomach. Chains binding my wrists and ankles clinked as I turned on my side and pushed myself to a sitting pose with my hands. In the candlelight I could make out a naked figure in the far corner, curled into the fetal position, screaming in his sleep. Harry. I stopped breathing in shock.  
  
Every outcry wrenched my psyche, and I fought against my restraints to get to his side of the room and wake him. Watching him suffer brought me to a new level of torment. Much as he was my foe, the game we played was about power, not torture. What did he see? How many horrors had he endured that he was now forced to reenact? Helpless, I could only remain where I was and wait.  
  
My father entered as Harry's shrieks reduced to whimpers, and stood over him. He turned his head briefly to me, as though to ensure I was watching his every move. I couldn't see his eyes in the darkness, but somehow I knew they held that same enraged, empty look I saw when he spoke of James Potter. He pointed his wand down at Harry and murmured an incantation. Harry awoke, tilting his head up toward my father.  
  
"James, we have a visitor. My son has come. He's been failing miserably at the game." His intonation was dark and smooth yet incomplete, like he was playing a bass with one string just out of tune.  
  
"Father, that's not--What are you--"  
  
"Crucio!"  
  
I doubled over, feeling as though I was going to explode. Faintly, I heard Harry calling my name as I pulled my knees into my chest and waited for the pain to pass.  
  
"For sixteen years I have been lost without you, James. Everything I have is nothing if not acquired to give me an advantage over you. Do you think I married Narcissa for any reason other than for her to give me a son? Why do you think I have raised Draco to be who he is, powerful, cunning, a great Dark wizard wrapped in the perfect gentleman's cloak? He endeavors to overpower Harry, but no matter his accomplishments he will never fully have the upper hand. How could he, when the entire wizarding world sees your son as its redeemer? Draco has the ambition and talent, but Harry has the Dark Lord's inheritance. Where does that leave us, my love?"  
  
Harry shivered in silence on the floor, too bewildered to make a sound. My hands ached to warm him, clothe him, but I stayed where I was. Father knelt beside Harry, robes forming a puddle. I strained to hear his whisper as he stroked Harry's hair and cheek, and a sense of violence pervaded me. The silk of Harry's body should be no one's but mine, and I longed to curse my father senseless and reclaim my opponent. I caught the words "beautiful," "traitor," "eternity," before my father spoke so I could hear.  
  
"You have lost, James."  
  
Time thickened in the air, coming to a standstill, and the taste of copper permeated my mouth. As my father parted his robes and grabbed Harry by the hips, I forced oxygen into my defiant airways and began to scream with all the strength I could muster.  
  
Father's gaze snapped to meet mine. Another Cruciatus Curse hit me, leaving me too exhausted to continue begging my father to stop. Harry remained taciturn, though he must have been in pain as his body shook beneath my father's. Weakened, I sank into the wall, feeling the weight of my chains. After what seemed like hours, my father finished with Harry, who collapsed on his side. Father then turned to face me, wand raised to strike.  
  
A pawn. That's all I had been. 


	7. Controlled

  
So many questions from everyone, not all will be answered in the end. Sometimes there is no answer. "Remember me, but ah, forget my fate." (cookie for the one who locates the source of that quote)  
  


*~*~*

Spring was cruelest, trees bursting mercilessly into emerald blooms, flowers daring to show their flaming colors after months underground.  He had always preferred winter, the sharp gray skies reflecting the color of his eyes, the pale earth a relentless reminder of his heritage. As nature unfolded new life Malfoy Manor grew darker, ivy unkempt twisting over the walls, rains dampening the air in the stone fortress. Ten years had passed since that final day of their seventh year at Hogwarts, and all it took was one movement in the shadows or a flicker of a candle to bring him back to that dungeon, to the rage and loss.  Harry Potter, dead, checkmated in the dangerous multigenerational game of human chess. Lucius Malfoy, the grand master, hiding his war tactics until the lethal end.

The end of our game passed as a necklace of blood and bone strung with Harry's screams.  Days my father tortured us both, raping Harry while I watched under the influence of the Imperius Curse.  Nights we sat in darkness, barely speaking. Father would splinter Harry's bones just to heal and break them again, cut Harry and kiss him with Harry's blood on his lips. I stifled my cries as the whip came down but could not keep from screaming as my father touched me with the tip of a white-hot wand, frosted satisfaction in his halcyon eyes.  Our sommelier of brutality and pain pushed us to the deepest fear, that of being uncertain of what would come.  I prayed not for my own survival but for Harry's, knowing the worst punishment my father could give was to make me live my life as he had lived his, without my competitor.

I refused food, though Harry pleaded with me to eat. Harry wept and shrieked while he slept, and I sat in the chilled quiet I had cultivated through years of carrying the Malfoy name.  Sleeping only when I had to and staying just below the brink of awareness, I dreamed of storms and serpents, of running from monsters toward a horizon I couldn't reach. The night before Harry's death, I dreamt of red roses scattered across a pool of mercury, deadly vapors curling into the air off the liquid surface.  Upon waking, every muscle in my back was tight with premonition, and when Father carried one of those same roses into the dungeon and knelt in front of Harry I nearly suffocated on my horror.  

"Do you remember the roses, James?  The thorns tearing our backs, the scent of the petals as we crushed them in our passion?"  He caressed Harry with the rose and I fought my shackles like an animal.  "Loyalty.  Fidelity.  Your acceptance of what we meant to each other.  I laughed at the thought of what Lily must have said when you told her the roses that appeared at your door were for her, knowing I had made a move against you," he said with a heartless laugh.  "I gave you my soul, James, loved you in a way Black and Lupin never could, and for what?  You chose to fight everything I was, could not fully comprehend that I was your life and your very being. This is a game of power versus bravery, the elements of who we are, and it will kill you because you cannot understand that your life was never yours to live. I was the only one you could trust, because only I knew what controlled your path.  Of course, you should have known better than to trust the one who wanted to win. Long live the king."

The fragrance of the rose came sweet and foreign through the air of fear.  My father laid the rose and his wand on the floor, placing one hand under Harry's chin and the other behind his head almost lovingly.  All the burns and lashes I had endured freshened on my skin as Father twisted Harry's head upward and snapped his neck with speed unlike any human's, the sound of life leaving Harry's body resonating through the stone and tranquility.

Disbelief crept into my brain and clawed my heart as I watched my father place Harry on the ground as though he were a prized possession.  I was sure I'd be the next casualty of the game and braced myself for death, even wished for it, as he turned to me.  I looked into the eyes of a man who lived at the wild ends of life's spectrum like fire burning in a crystal ball of ice, and knew that he would not be content to kill me.  Instead, his loss and pain would now be my cross to bear.  Without a word, he released me from my chains and left the dungeon.  He never returned.

In ten years I have not been back to that room, ordering the house-elves to take Harry's body and bury it in the earth beside the front steps. I do not allow roses to grow anywhere near the Manor, and I welcome the winter, when nothing is green.  The wizarding world presumes both of us dead, and really that's not far from the truth. What is death besides the absence of a life worth living?  I am still controlled by all of them:  my father, Harry, the ones that came before us, and I will die incomplete, as did my father.  Generations of our families breathed manipulation laced with complicated love, and my father's victory was the rope with which we all were strangled.

Victory or none, I know who truly lost in the end.

Check.  And Mate.


End file.
